


Not my type

by Tantaylor



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 16:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tantaylor/pseuds/Tantaylor
Summary: When Roger rejoins Duran Duran, he lets everyone know that he`s gay just like his bandmate Nick.But yet alone the thought of Roger and Nick being a couple is completely absurd, isn`t it?





	Not my type

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DonnaTB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnaTB/gifts).

> This has been written in a sleepless night for a dear friend who needs it just like I do! 
> 
> English is not my mother tongue, no beta.  
If that bothers you, don`t read.  
Feedback welcome  
Thank you!

When Roger agreed on the reunion in 2001 he told us he`s gay.  
Andy and Simon found this incredibly funny and of course they made jokes about us becoming a couple.  
They tried matchmaking us for months.  
Roger and I just smiled at each other whenever they made another endeavour, pretending it`s not.  
We both were used to those straight friends who want to set you up with * my other gay friend*.  
I mean, seriously, just the thought of Roger and me being a couple is completely absurd, isn`t it?  
We have absolutely nothing in common.  
He isn`t even my type.

Somewhere in the US, January 2004

Goodness! I can`t believe it! It`s been ages since I set the alarm clock for 5 in the morning! Wait, when thinking about it properly, I guess I NEVER set up the alarm for 5! I`m a night person. Staying awake long, sleeping until at least 11 am.  
And now this freaking alarm clock doesn`t stop it`s annoying *beeep-beeep-beeep-beeep* Fuck!  
Where do you switch that thing off?  
Ah, never mind! I`ll just throw it against the wall!  
What the hell got into me when I agreed to this?  
To make it even better, someone is knocking at my door.  
“Come on, Nickers! You ready?”  
“Stop calling me Nickers! Come in, Rog.”  
How is he doing this? How can someone look that awake at five? No single hair out of place, beaming all over, he steps in.  
“Ooops! What`s that?”  
“That once was an alarm clock.”  
“Nickers, you`re not even dressed!” he shakes his head smiling. “We said five!”  
“Yes, well, it is five, isn`t it? And I`m awake, yay! Give me 30 minutes.”  
“We will miss the sunrise! Just throw something on and let`s go!”  
“Roger, how long do you know my by now? As if I ever just could *throw something on*!”  
“You said you wanted to take pics of the sunrise. And when we won`t leave within the next 10 minutes, we`ll miss it. So possibly maybe, Nick Rhodes, this would be the right time for doing something completely new. Something as rebellious as just throwing something on!”

10 minutes later we are in the car. My very own personal record.  
“Shades, Nickers? It`s pitch-dark!”  
“Roger Andrew Taylor, would you be so kind not to call me Nickers? Thank you very much. I have eye bags because someone forced me to get up in the middle of the night. I have a reputation to lose as a perfect style icon. So, yes, shades!”  
“You poor thing! I wasn`t forcing you, by the way. You said you always wanted to take awesome sunrise-pics. And I found the perfect place for that on my daily running route. It`s only 5 miles away.”  
“You run 5 miles every day?”  
“10. I try, at least. Unlike you, I have to work hard on stage, huh?” he winks and I slap his neck slightly.  
Well, I have to admit that he looks amazingly fit for his age. The light tan fits him perfectly and his biceps is really impressive. He laughs much more often these days than he did back then and I guess most of the fine wrinkles around his eyes are just proving this.  
“The rest we have to walk.” He says as he parks the car.  
“What, uphill?”  
“Nicholas James Bates! I`ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you up if you won`t stop complaining, you whiny faggot!”  
He carries the photo equipment instead.  
Well, the sunrise is absolutely stunning.  
I think that will be some of the best photos I`ve ever made.  
Walking down, Roger is a few steps ahead of me. I never noticed that he has such a sexy ass. But then, maybe, it`s the jeans. Boring plain blue jeans. Uh.

“Fancy having breakfast with me?” Roger asks when we are back in the hotel.  
“Are you crazy? I`m going back to bed now!”  
His laughter follows me, making me smile.  
He has a nice laugh, really.

Costa Rica, February 2004

“Ack, Nickers! A Museum? I wanted to go zip-lining!”  
“I forbid you to do that! Imagine the rope breaking and you crash! Where are we supposed to find a new drummer so quickly in the middle of the tour? No, Roger! You're coming with me to the Gold Museum in San Jose today. And stop calling me fucking Nickers!”

We meet half an hour later in the lobby.  
“Roger! Seriously? Flop-flops? “I raise my brows.  
“It`s 87 F out there!”  
“We are going in a museum, not to the beach!”  
“You are such a snob! What now? Can we go or don't you want to be seen in public with someone wearing flip-flops?”  
“Honestly, Roger Andrew, you are the un-gayest gay man I ever met. You don't have the slightest sense of style!”  
“I like you, too, snobbish faggot!”  
“Oh, darling, think of something else! Every hetero has better insults than that.”  
Flip-flops and shorts. And I mean shorts! Quite short shorts. The T-shirt has clearly seen better days. About 10 years ago or so. Goodness.  
Well, at least his hair is in place like always. And I like it when he smiles the way he`s doing now, patting my shoulder.  
“No worries, hon, I will walk two steps behind you, no one would think that we are in any way connected”  
“Despites, we`re playing in the same band. Rather let me walk two steps behind you. Then at least I can look at your ass.”  
“Sexist!”  
“I`m gay. Gays like asses.”  
“What do think why I wanted to walk behind you, huh?”

The museum is not as huge as expected, and we are through in not even two hours. Roger gets us Hotdogs and we lean against a bar table in front of the snack stand.  
“If you were properly dressed, you could go to a real restaurant.”  
“Look around, Nickers! Do you see anyone but you wearing long trousers and Loafers?”  
“Honestly, if you don't stop calling me Nickers, I'm gonna spank you!”

“Oh? So that's what you like? Please have mercy, I'm a drummer working in a sitting position.”  
“How's that even compatible with your sexual preferences?”  
“Pardon me?”  
“Come on! I recognize a bottom a mile off!”  
“You are right, Rhodes! Anyway, I hadn`t have sex in ages!”  
“Why not?”  
“Having sex needs a person to have sex with.”  
“Oh, I`m sure you won`t have any problems finding someone to have sex with if you just cared a little more about what you're wearing.”  
“And you'd probably find someone if you were a little less superficial!”  
“You think I'm superficial?”  
“No, actually I think you are a very profound, intelligent and exciting person. Sometimes you just go to a hell of a lot of trouble to hide it.”  
“How do you even know there's no one?” I feel a wee bit offended.  
“We`re on tour together for weeks. If there was anyone, I'd know. Besides, you spend your free time with me.”  
“Being with you is much more fun than having bad sex.”  
“Anything's funnier than having bad sex.”  
“That's true! Oh, I almost forgot! I have something for you from the Museum`s shop.” I'll shove the little velvet bag over the bar table.  
“What`s that, then?” he wonders while he opens it. “A turtle pendant?”  
“You didn`t pay any attention in the museum, did you? The indigenous population of Costa Rica believed that turtles stood for a long life. And since you crazy guy will certainly go zip-lining tomorrow maybe that helps to prevent a crash. I like you, Roger! And I think you are a brilliant drummer. It wasn't the same without you. You just fit best into this band, and I really don't feel like looking for another drummer.”  
“You can be really nice if you want, Nickers!”  
That smile really lightens up his face. It`s that kind of smile you just have to return. 

Spain, March 2004  
“Tell me again why we are here!” I sigh.  
“Because we`re in Barcelona and everyone who likes football the slightest bit has to be at least once in this stadium.”  
“But I don`t like football. Not even the slightest bit!”  
“Consider it an educational measure. Shall I explain the offside rule to you?”  
“No, thank you. Ouch! That looks painful!”  
“He just pretends. The foot didn`t even touch him, if you ask me.”  
“And why would he pretend?”  
“So that the other player gets the red card.”  
“Why do football players always have such stupid hairstyles?”  
“Probably so any gay players won't find them attractive.”  
“That's a very interesting theory. According to it, all football players who have a reasonably decent haircut should be gay.”  
“Nickers?”  
“Huh?”  
“Thanks for coming with me. I really appreciate this.”  
“You are very welcome! I like your company.”  
“Likewise.”  
Roger has really nice eyes. Why did I never notice that?  
They sparkle. That's joie de vivre, I think, what sparks out of him.  
It`s somehow contagious, I guess, as when there`s finally a goal and he is jumping up, cheering enthusiastically, I jump up with him. He hugs me laughing and for a split second I find myself thinking that his arms feel quite good around me.  
But that`s nonsense.  
We have nothing in common.  
He isn`t even my type.

Apparently, the right team wins and Roger is in an incredibly good mood. He invites me in the hotel bar to drink on the victory.  
Andy is also there, obviously a few drinks ahead.  
“Rog, mate! Fancy a round of pool?”  
“Gladly! Are you in, Nick?”  
“I`m afraid I can`t play pool.”  
“I`ll show you”  
“You guys just play, I'm watching.”  
It`s fun watching them, especially because Roger wins in a rout.  
We all had a lot of alcohol during their game, so when he offers again showing me how to play billiard I agree.  
He's right behind me, very close.  
“You have to hold on tight up here so the queue doesn't shake. At the bottom, it has to run loosely through your fingers.”  
His hand covers mine.  
“Great. Now fix the target, point the tip at the balls”  
I have to laugh. God, I`m drunk!  
“Been a while since my tip pointed at any balls!”  
“And now you even have to do something you probably never did before, breathe deeply and bend over.” He chuckles at my neck.  
“Uh! Go slow, I`m still a virgin!”  
We both have to laugh so hard that Andy shakes his head. "You should play, not flirt!”  
“You think it`s flirting when I tell Nick to chose a hole now?” Roger grins.  
“Oh! That`s cool! I prefer the one in the back!”  
“I guess so! And I bet you will get in at first try!”  
He's really very close to me. And his hand still covers mine. Is there something pressing against my butt? I'm probably just imagining it.  
"Excuse me for a second." I seem more drunk than I thought. I have to sort myself out, so I flee to the bathroom.

France, April 2004.  
“What`s going on between Rog and you?” John wonders when we are alone in the elevator together.  
“Nothing, Nigel! We're friends and we happen to play in the same band.”  
“You guys spend a lot of time together.”  
“I like being with him, he`s funny and Intelligent.”  
“And sexy!” John grins.  
“You think he's sexy? Are you gay, John Taylor?”  
“You are!”  
“Oh? I almost forgot, thanks for reminding me! We are friends, not more!”  
“If you say so!” 

I spot Roger the moment we step out into the lobby. Apparently, he`s been to the hotel gym, as he wears his usual training clothes.  
I`m about to call him when the guy he`s talking to lies an arm around his shoulder and Roger`s laugh can be heard.  
“Who`s that?” I turn to John.  
“Who?”  
“The man talking to Roger. Who the hell is that?”  
“Oh, that's Peter. One of the stage technicians. He's gay, by the way.”  
I feel a strange sting in the heart area.  
“Man, he's really hitting on Roger, isn't he?” John says.  
“When two gays talk, it doesn't mean they're flirting!” I blurt.  
“Hey JT, hey Nickers! Sorry, I completely forgot about the time!” Roger had obviously noticed us. “I`ll go have a quick shower, see you in a few!”  
“Mind if I join you?” Peter grins.  
What a disgusting guy! It couldn't be more primitive, could it?  
“Dream on, Pete!” Laughing, Roger makes his way to the elevators.  
That idiot stares at his back.  
“Your drummer has a really cute ass! An ass that screams for being fucked. I got him by the end of the tour, bet?”  
Idiot. Bloody moron.  
Both Johnny and I ignore that stupid bullshit.

“Who are you and where`s the birthday boy?” I gasp.  
Holy cow! What happened to the plain jeans and the out-washed tees?  
The man standing in front of me looks like a very classy gentleman in a well-tailored silvery suit.  
“You like?” I could swear he`s blushing.  
“I LOVE! Wow, Roger, you are absolutely stunning!”  
“What a compliment from the style icon himself! Ready to hit my party?”  
“My pleasure, Mister Taylor!”  
He hooks into my offered arm and we go to the elevators.  
“Where`ve you been yesterday? I wanted to take you to the Louvre.”  
“Oh, I was cart driving with Peter. That was fun! We should do that together sometimes, Nickers!”  
Peter. How very nice! Not.

Of course, this idiot is also at the party as Roger, being the friendly, collegial person he is, invited the whole crew.  
However, he seems to prefer my company to Peters, who gives me quite a few poisonous looks. Especially when we dance to *reach up for the sunrise* and Roger laughingly whirls me around.  
“The sunrise on the mountain was fab, Nickers, huh? You gonna print me some of the best pictures?”  
“Sure!”  
Man, he looks good. He feels good. He even smells good. Has he always used that aftershave? It really suits him. Male and herbaceous, but somehow mild. Just like him.

I meet John in the bathroom later, and he`s with no doubt the only guest at this party who isn`t blind drunk.  
“Tell me, my friend, how long are you going to keep kidding yourself?” he asks drop dead serious.  
“What are you talking about?”  
“I`m talking about Rog and you, Nicholas!”  
I don`t know why but I literally burst with anger.  
“Is that necessary, John, that you now also start with this nonsense, where Andy and Simon have finally stopped with it?" I yell at him. “There`s no *Roger and me*!”  
“Nick…”  
“Don`t dare to interrupt me! There will never be a *Roger and me*, and you wanna know why? Because he loves running and I hate sports. Because he loves football and I will never understand the offside-rule! Because he prefers cart-driving to the Louvre! There will never be a *Roger and me*, John Taylor! Yet alone the thought of me and him being a couple is completely absurd! Roger loves flip-flops, John! Flip-flops and jeans and T-shirts whose imprint you can't even tell because they've been washed an estimated five million times. How the hell is that supposed to work out, John?”  
“You know, Nicholas, I wonder if Roger sees that the same way. Somehow, he looked pretty shocked. He came in by the first *there`s no Roger and me* and left with left with *absurd*. And he really didn`t look very happy, I tell you!”  
Ack! Bullshit! Of course, he sees it the same way! He knows for a fact that it would never work with us!  
However, when we come back in, Roger`s sitting beside Peter and they seem to have a lively conversation.  
Somehow, I feel tired. I should go to bed.

Japan, May 2004  
It was the last of 3 shows at the Budokan and I`ve rarely seen Roger lately. I mean, apart from sound checks and concerts.  
Simon, Andy and I are gonna wash the makeup off the face backstage.

“Where's Roger?” I'm wondering.  
“He already left in his own rented car” Andy answers.  
“I heard he`s having a date!” Charlie chuckles. “Let`s hurry up, they set a fantastic buffet up in the hallway!”  
Date? Roger has a date? With whom?  
John has already loaded his plate to the limit when we join him at the buffet and just beside him there`s Peter.  
“Has anyone seen the drummer?” he asks.  
“He left 15 minutes ago” John says with his mouth full.  
“Ah! Fab.” The technician grins.  
“Why should that be fab?” Andy doesn't seem to like the man any more than I do.  
“Straight guys like you probably don`t understand it, but I`m sure your fairy bandmate will! Didn`t I tell you, Nick, that I would fuck him before the tour is over? Well, guess what, tonight`s the night! We have a date and most likely he needs to…you know, prepare!” with a dirty grin he waves goodbye. and walks away cheerfully whistling.  
“What's that greasy rag talking about, Rhodes?” Andy blurts.  
I can`t speak. An iron fist is cramping around my heart.  
“Nick Rhodes! Do something! I can't stand this guy! When I think about him touching Roger, I'm gonna puke! You have to fight that, you stubborn idiot!” the guitarist yells at me.  
Puking's a pretty good idea, I think.  
Charlie grabs my shoulders, shaking me violently.  
“Fuck, Nicholas! Fight for him! You're pathetic, you two! Everyone has noticed that you have a crush!”  
“Stop shaking me, you're hurting me!” I cry.  
I cry?  
“Nicholas!” John says softly. “Nicholas, look at me! Look me in the eye and tell me you don`t love him!”  
I can`t! I can`t look him in the eye because I`m crying so hard I don`t even see his eyes. And I can`t tell him I don`t love Roger because I do.  
That disgusting, primitive Peter won't get him! No! He won't fuck my wonderful Roger!  
“Where`s my mobile?”  
Andy runs into the dressing room and throws me my cell phone seconds later. With shaky fingers I type in Roger`s number. “He won`t pic up! Roger, please! Answer the phone!”

“Charlie, call a taxi! Our limo won`t be here soon enough!” John commands. “Nick, try texting him!”  
*Roger, please don`t !!!* I type.  
No answer. Minute after minute passes. I feel strangely numb.  
John escorts me to the taxi.  
No answer.  
*Don`t go on that date. Please!*  
I enter the car, vaguely aware the JT is telling the driver where to go.  
No answer.  
Is it too late? I`m such a snobbish faggot, Roger is absolutely right about that! Who cares about washed-out shirts and flip-flops? He wanted to share the sunrise with me, he wanted to show me what he likes! He let me into his life and I was just thinking about how different we are!  
Incoming message.  
*?*  
*PLEASE DON`T MEET PETER!*  
*Why not, Nickers?*  
*He`s a disgusting primitive asshole*  
Can't this incompetent driver go any faster?  
*At least he likes me the way I am*  
I call him. He`s not picking up the phone.  
*Talk to me! Please!*  
*About what?*  
*I am an idiot. I love you. Please don`t meet Peter!*  
*Where are you, Nickers?*  
*In a taxi. On my way to the hotel*  
*I love you too, idiot!*

Goodness. Oh bloody goodness!  
*Where are you?*  
Again, minutes pass like in slow-motion.  
*In my room. Did you seriously think I'd let primitive assholes fuck me? I know about his stupid bet, John told me about it*  
There's the hotel! Drive faster! Please drive faster!  
What's taking this miserable elevator so long?  
I take the stairs.  
Fifth floor, I can do that!  
Panting, I stand at Roger's door. My lungs burn like fire. God, I'm dying!  
So close to the goal, and I will die miserably of acute shortness of breath!  
The door is opened and I fall directly into his arms, into these wonderful strong arms.  
“Nickers! Did you just walk up to the fifth floor?” his hot breath sweeps over my sweaty neck.  
“All…up…hill!”  
“Don`t talk, my love! I'll hold you. I hold you tight, do you hear?”  
His voice sounds like honey. Like thick, sticky, sweet honey.  
Even though I can hardly breathe, my lips find this delightful hollow directly above his collarbone and I taste clean skin. My hands feel thick terry cloth. A bathrobe. I want to cuddle up to him. Crawl into him. I want to kiss him and my goodness, I want to fuck him!  
My lips find something metallic, warmed by his skin. It`s the turtle I gave him in Costa Rica. The fact that he wears it makes me infinitely happy.  
“Are you all right? Can you breathe?”  
“I think! Why did you leave that early if not…if not…”  
“For a date with Peter? I just wanted to be alone, Nick. I wanted to sit in that fancy Jacuzzi and feel sorry for myself because I thought I lost you. You made it very clear to John that we couldn't be together. I've been in love with you for a long time, Nickers.”

“Stop calling me Nickers!”

“As you like. Anyway, for now. Maybe we should save the spanking for later.” He winks. “Now I want to kiss you. And then I will undress you and throw you on the bed! Take another deep breath, Nick Rhodes.”  
A rough, calloused hand grabs the back of my neck and our lips literally crash together. We suck each other greedily. That's not tender, that's almost desperate passion. I rip his bathrobe belt open and dig under the terry cloth for his firm buttocks.  
Moaning into my mouth, he grinds his hips against mine. My thumb brushes over the base of his ass-crack and he trembles with delight under this touch. It is divine how he reacts to my touches, sensual and passionate.  
"I want to fuck you, now!”  
And then he lies under me, this man who doesn't suit me at all, who isn't even my type. Trembling with desire and with eyes glassy of lust. Impatiently he pulled my pants off my legs, my expensive designer shirt consists only of shreds, the buttons are lying all over the room. As promised, he threw me on the bed. It definitely has its advantages when someone does a lot of sports. A well-trained body looks pretty gorgeous and feels fucking good. I`m extremely fascinated by his abs. They flinch so beautifully when you stroke them.  
But that`s nothing compared to the feeling of slowly gliding into him, into the tight slippery hotness of his ass.  
“Nick! Aaah, yes!” he howls. For this moment, for this moment alone, I would have gone to every football stadium in the world. And if I can do that again tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow and next week, then I even get up at 5 o'clock.  
If he always looks at me the way he looks at me now, then I even go running with him. Well, maybe. You don't have to exaggerate right away, have you?


End file.
